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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117955">Mother’s Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders'>NairobiWonders</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elementary (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Family, Gen, Mother’s Day, Sons, mothers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:07:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Semisweet fluff - like caramel popcorn drizzled in dark chocolate. Post season seven. <br/>Very short chapters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/Joan Watson (Elementary)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A knock on her bedroom and Joan’s eyes popped open.</p><p>“Mommy? Can I come in?” Arthur asked. </p><p>Her head swung to the right to make sure Sherlock wasn’t there, and then answered, “Sure, honey, come on in.” She sat up and smoothed her short hair back into some semblance of order.</p><p>The door opened and in walked her son ever so carefully carrying a tray laden with fruit, pastries, juice, tea and a small vase of daisies.  The door quietly closed behind the boy. </p><p>Joan beamed, “Oh my goodness! Look at you!”</p><p>“Happy Mother’s day mommy!” Arthur gently set the tray on the bed and went around to the other side of the bed and climbed into his mother’s arms for hugs and kisses.</p><p>“Thank you so much! Breakfast in bed and with flowers.” She gave him another tight squeeze.</p><p>“And I made a card and there’s a present too!” Arthur reached over to the tray and handed her a construction paper card covered in crayon-colored hearts and rainbows. </p><p>She gave her boy another hug and a kiss. “You are the best, you know that right?” The boy smiled and basked in the praise. </p><p>“Open the present! Open the present!” He handed her a small box wrapped in what looked like a report from an old case file. </p><p>Joan pursed her lips to contain the grin and removed the paper noting the case - the Gerald Lydon case. </p><p>She studied the box — small, white, cardboard — it offered no clue as to its contents. Lifting lid from the box, she found a smaller beige jewelry box and took a small pause. </p><p>“Open it!” Arthur was growing impatient with his mom’s slowness. </p><p>The jeweler’s box opened with a squeak and a creak. Joan’s eyes misted over. “Oh Arthur this is beautiful.”</p><p>“Uncle Sherlock helped me.”</p><p>On a pillow of white velvet, lay a thin gold band upon which sat a tiny diamond, a tiny ruby and very small gold bee. </p><p>“See, the white stone is for the month I was born, the red stone is for the month I became your son and the bee...” Arthur paused trying to remember the words Uncle Sherlock had used. “The bee is for you cause you are my mommy bee.” He smiled, pleased he more or less remembered.</p><p>Tears trickled from her eyes confusing him, “Why are you crying?”</p><p>She wiped at her cheeks, “These are tears of happiness. I love it and you.” She kissed the top of her son’s head. “Let’s get Uncle Sherlock in here to help us eat all this food!”</p><p>Relieved, Arthur nodded, jumped off the bed and ran to the door. “Uncle Sherlock!” he yelled.</p><p>He must have been nearby because he walked into the room almost instantaneously. “Everything alright?” He looked with concern at the tears that lay on her cheeks and the ring on her finger. </p><p>“Yes, Yes ... perfect,” she once more wiped at her cheek. “We just have all this food and need some help eating it.”</p><p>“Ah,” he sat on the far side of the bed. “That we can do. Right, Arthur?”</p><p>Arthur, who already had a mouthful of chocolate croissant, enthusiastically nodded.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mary, surrounded by pillows, sat in her favorite easy chair with a light throw across her lap. Joan noted the vacant stare that greeted them as they walked into the room.</p><p>“Hi mom, happy Mother’s Day!” She extended the bouquet of flowers towards her but was met with the same empty look. Her heart shattered. “You remember Sherlock, right?” </p><p>He nodded and bounced, “Hello, Mary.”</p><p>Her eyes shifted slightly when he spoke but no acknowledgement of either of them was forthcoming.</p><p>Henry opened the door to the room, and stepped aside as Arthur rushed in, arms thrust out before him, “Grandma!”</p><p>The old woman’s face came to life. “Arthur!” she called out. She opened her arms to catch the boy as he jumped into her arms.</p><p>Joan glanced at Sherlock and murmured, “Huh ... Arthur she remembers...”</p><p>He shrugged. “Perhaps she just likes him better than she does us.” </p><p>Seeing the crushed look on her face he whispered, “You know the course of this disease, Watson, and not to take things personally, hmm? Your mother loves you very much.”</p><p>His hand discreetly found hers and held on. Joan nodded and turned to watch her mother and her son snuggling happily.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day had been long but a more or less happy one. Joan read her son a bedtime story and, with a kiss, tucked him in for the night. She went downstairs.</p><p>Sherlock sat in the dark, his form silhouetted by the flickering firelight from the library hearth. She sat down beside him. </p><p>“Thank you.” She played with the ring on her finger.</p><p>“It was Arthur’s idea. I merely facilitated.”</p><p>She knew better but didn’t argue.  The fire crackled and an amiable silence fell between them for a moment. </p><p>He shifted his weight on the sofa cushion and after a moment spoke. “I was thinking about my mother ... how different her life would have been if she had had a friend like you.”</p><p>Joan reached for his hand. “From what you’ve told me about May, I know she loved you very much. You know that right? We both need to cherish the good times we had with our mothers and forgive .... and forgive ourselves for not being able to help.” Her words caught in her throat. </p><p>Sherlock extricated his hand from hers and placed his arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him. He changed the subject hoping to lighten the mood. “Arthur seemed to enjoy the day. He ate his weight in pastries and noodles.”</p><p>Joan chuckled into his shoulder and placed her hand on his chest. The tiny bee on her ring glinted in the firelight. She nestled her face in the crook of his neck and whispered, “Thank you.”</p>
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